


Dynamis

by Ariadne_Dai



Series: The Breaking of Hyrule [1]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time
Genre: Alternate Character Interpretation, Childhood, Gen, Gerudo Culture, Good and Evil, Origin Story, Post-Colonial, Worldbuilding, gerudo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-13
Updated: 2014-01-13
Packaged: 2018-01-08 14:10:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1133579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ariadne_Dai/pseuds/Ariadne_Dai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of a boy in the desert and what he found there, long before a king of thieves sought to conquer the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dynamis

Wham. My head hit the ground, hard, and bits of sand clung to my face, sticking in my mouth. I spat out as much as I could, and I tried to push myself up. But I couldn’t. Someone was already sitting on top of me.

Grabbing hold of my hair, Asheensa forced my face down into the sands again, a cruel grin on her face. “Had enough, dirt-for-brains?” she sneered, pulling my head up just enough so that I could catch her smirk. “Want me to stop? Say you want me to stop.”

“Stop,” I moaned, gasping for air, “I’ll say anything you want, just stop—“

“You like eating dirt?” she asked. “That’s what you get for trespassing. This is our favorite spot, you little brat. What made you think you could just walk through here without paying the toll?”

“I was just passing through on the way back from the fig groves, all right?” I pleaded. “I forgot you three were going to be here, I didn’t do it on purpose. And anyway,” I added, getting defensive, “you don’t own the desert. I have as just as much right to be here as anyone. Even more, actually, because—“

“Yeah, yeah,” said Asheensa, rolling her eyes. She dug her heel into my back as she got up, pushing me even further into the dirt. She stepped back to join her friends, who were leaning against the rocky walls of their favorite shady cleft in the earth. “Like we don’t all know you’re gonna lead the Golden People someday. Not that it makes any difference: you’re such a weak, scrawny, stupid-looking thing that you’ll make the worst king we ever had. You’ll make us a tribe of stupid little babies like you.”

“You just wait,” I growled, pushing myself up from the sand. I didn’t try to run, though. It seemed safer to stay where I was. “When I’m the leader, you’re going to regret all the things you did to me.”

Asheensa and the two girls on either side of her erupted with laughter. “Ooooh! I think we’re supposed to be scared!” The girl turned to the skinny girl on her left.  “What do you think, Resiak?”

Resiak folded her arms and grinned. “I think he thinks he can just do whatever he wants because the elders made him think he’s special.”

“Haha, yeah!” Asheensa said, fixing me with a withering stare. “You think you’re better than all of us, don’t you, just cause you got a stupid dangling _thing_ between your legs!” She puffed up her cheeks, stuck her legs out, and mimed a swinging motion with her hands as she waddled around. “Ooh, look at me! I’m the male who thinks he owns the place! Hur hur, look at me be gross and hairy and ugly.”

“Shut up!” I said, still trying to get the sand out of my teeth. “I don’t look like that!”

The girls quit their snickering and turned to me again. “Face it, little piglet,” Asheensa said. “You’re nothing but a little freak. You can’t do any of the normal things a person does like give birth to babies or go through the ancient ceremonies, you’ll never know what it’s like to shed your first blood for Din or anything! You’re just a bit of wrinkly flesh, like those Easterner boyfriends the women bring home so that they can have babies. The foremothers probably just made up something for you mutants to do so you’d think you had some kind of power. Everyone really hates you, you know.”

“That’s not true!” I sputtered. “Nobody but you thinks that. Enerisa likes me, she’s always nice to me. Sometimes she gives me things—”

“Oh?” said Asheensa, raising an eyebrow. “Do you _liiike_ her? Come on, everybody, let’s see what passes for love among little kids like these two. Lakind, grab his arms.”

Before I could do anything, the tallest girl had pinned my arms behind my back, and Asheensa was grabbing at my clothes and rummaging through my pockets. “Oooh, what’s this?” she said, pulling something out of the one pocket I hadn’t wanted her to touch. She held up a jeweled comb and whistled. “Wow, how much did you have to do to get this from her? Her mom takes weeks to make stuff like that. What’d you do, promise to quicken her eggs?”

“No,” I stammered. “She gave it to me because—she said she wanted to give me something for my hair, because she likes my hair, that’s all.”

The cruel smiles grew wider. “Oh yeah? Well, _we_ think it’s getting too long, isn’t that right?” The other two nodded. Asheensa pulled her little hunting knife from her belt. “Let’s see how your little girlfriend likes your new cut.” She held the knife near—

Something broke. That’s what it felt like, like something broke within me, like some little footstep disturbed a rock, and sent a landslide hurtling down inside me. I was angry, and I wanted to be stronger than I was, as powerful as they were. I wanted to be able to hurt them.

**Make them suffer.**

And all at once, somehow, I did.

There was a rushing noise, and the sense of something swirling around me, and I lost my balance and fell, because neither Lakind or Asheensa or anybody was holding onto me any longer.

I blinked and looked around. There was smoke in the air, and three older girls lying on the ground. Also, when I looked down at the ground, there was a ring of black soot around where I had been standing.

I walked over to one of the prone forms. It was Asheensa. She was alive and breathing, but out cold. There was soot all over her face and clothes. The others looked to be the same way.

I knew, on some level, that whatever I’d done, it had to be wrong. I wasn’t supposed to hurt people. But I was happy it had happened. After a second, I decided that I didn’t mind being happy. I felt good about what I’d done, and I wasn’t going to lie to myself about it. Whatever I’d done, they weren’t tormenting me anymore. And maybe they’d think twice about doing it again.

One thing I knew, though, as I trudged home: somehow or other I was going to get in trouble for this.

The real reason I’d wanted to walk home through the hidden little gully was the shade. Shade and protection from the wind. You needed all of both that you could get in our land. Despite what they’d said, Asheensa and her friends weren’t the only ones who liked this place. Lots of girls hid out here; I’d been this way plenty of times with friends. What friends I had, anyway. Not everyone was like the older girls, but I didn’t really know a lot of people well. Most girls my own age just avoided me, not knowing what to do with the male who was going to be their leader someday. A few people were all right, though. Some, like Enerisa, were even better.

I looked out through the bright crack in the rock, and, grimacing, pulled my scarves around myself and stepped into the light. Oh, yeah. There was a reason to stay hidden, all right. The sun burst into view, blazing down upon me. And the wind hit me with a blast of terrible heat. Sand spun around me, then blew hot grains into my face as I stumbled back into the wastes. The desert was as merciless as ever.

I trudged through the dunes, knowing I was following the right markers, knowing I’d be back home soon, but still hating every minute of it. There was nothing to love about this weather, about stumbling around barely able to see, about sandstorms that could trap you inside for weeks, about heat that made you feel like the entire world was on fire. I struggled through the heat and the wind, feeling sweat dripping down my forehead, staining my clothes. How much further away could it be?

“Hey, Gan!” shouted a voice from behind me. I turned, surprised. Riding up to me were two women on horses. The nearest stopped before me and stepped down from her mount with a broad grin. “Hey, little princeling, need a lift?”

I could have cheered. It was Dirak, who’d always been nice to me. She got along well with the Elders, and was a good friend of my Ama Kou and Ama Tak, who’d known her since she was a baby, along with almost everyone else in town. Dirak was strong and fit, one of our bravest warriors and horsewoman, and her dark black locks revealed her father’s Sheikah heritage. Behind her was stocky, green-eyed Isita, who dismounted as well and gave her companion an affectionate squeeze. It looked like they might officially be a couple now. About time, too, the whole oasis had been winking at them and cheering them on for weeks.

“Yeah,” I said, grateful. “Yeah, that’d be great, thank you.”

Dirak nodded. “Why don’t you take a seat on Vaga with me? Unless you’d rather ride your own mount.”

“No,” I said. “That’s fine.”

She gave me a sympathetic smile. “You look tired, poor thing. Climb on up.”

“Careful,” Isita joked as I scrambled up and held on to Dirak’s waist. “That’s my favorite spot, don’t wear it out.” I had to laugh.

It didn’t take long for us to get back home. Soon we passed into the valley, and I saw the familiar outlines of tents, the brightly-dyed cloth, red, green, violet, shouting defiance at the desert, the sounds of laughter and chatter and the smell of roasting boar. Not far at all now. We rode past the crowds of women, warriors and merchants exchanging goods and telling tales, little daughters clinging to their mothers’ ankles and running around with glee. And the bright shine of our gold, in bangles and necklaces and bracelets, gleaming to rival the sun.

After a while, though, I lost interest in the sights I’d seen so many times before, and started worrying about what I’d say when I got home. Dirak noticed my dark mood. “Something wrong, Gan?” she asked.

I was thinking about before. What had I done to those bullies, anyway? It didn’t make sense. It seemed dark, dangerous. But I found myself wishing I could do it on purpose. “Nothing,” I said automatically. “Just something I need to talk to my Amas about.” She nodded, understanding.

And before long, it was upon us: the ancient fortress. Built by our revered ancestors, it rose up out of a twist in the rock to loom over the tents and travelers below. It was our hub, our hearth, the central jewel in our gilded crown. Within its great halls, the elders gathered and passed down their laws and judgments to the tribe. Hundreds of scribes and workers gathered and tabulated the wealth of its great granaries, and kept watch over its treasuries of holy, gleaming gold. Its stone walls were the last bastion of defense for all our people in case of war, and the skills of its guards were legendary.

And it was my home. I thanked Dirak and Isita as they dropped me off at the shining gateway, slipped past a few amused guards, and ran inside to wander through its winding, mazelike passages in search of my grandmothers.

That’s what I called them, anyway. It was a bit more complicated than that. But they were the grandmothers to all our tribe, among the most revered of all the elders, and certainly the oldest, having enhanced their lifespans by centuries through clever magic. They’d taken on the job of raising me , happy to impart their wisdom to the future king. I knew, of all people in the tribe, I could trust them more than anyone else.

I found them in the library, which was their usual spot. They’d set up a laboratory in the next room over to conduct their many experiments, and I often found them scurrying back and forth in search of some unusual spell. When I entered, Ama Tak was atop a large ladder, pulling a scroll off the shelf, while Ama Kou was holding up a small vial of some strange substance and frowning at it, making a little jet of flame underneath it with a flick of her finger. They were chattering away, as usual.

“Well, I told her,” Ama Tak said merrily, “it’s never too late to go out looking, that’s what I said. Some people find a person long after their fighting days are over. Look at me, I said, I still keep my eyes open, wouldn’t say no to an Easterner if he had a nice face, and I’m pushing four hundred—“

“Oh, to think of you going after men at your age!” Ama Kou scoffed. “Scare them half to death, you will.”

“One is _never_ too old for men,” Ama Tak pronounced. “And who are you to speak, you old bat? I know for a fact you still go moony-eyed over every other handsome young hunter with bangles on her wrists and jewels in her hair—”

“What can I say?” Ama Kou grinned. “Hard to resist the attractions of the braver sex. Can’t keep up with the younger set these days, though, they just move too fast—”

“By which you mean every woman in the tribe other than us and old Eshiral!” Ama Kou crowed, and they both cackled. “Ah, no fun for us in being old, is there?”

“Except for being alive!” Ama Tak declared, and they both cracked up again. Then she spotted me standing by the door. “Ah, good, Gan’s back! Get your fill of figs, I expect? Bring back any for your old Amas?”

I passed her a satchel full of figs, and she took them happily. “Good boy. Now hold this for a moment, there’s a good lad.” She handed me the warm vial, which had begun to fizz at the top. I held it carefully away from me.

Ama Kou slid down off the ladder with scrolls clenched in each hand. “Good of you to come and see us, Gan, but you needn’t stay. We’re just testing a new application of Abbaish’s Third Pyrokinesis Theorem. Feel free to wander off and do what you like.”

“Actually,” I said, swallowing, “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Ama Tak’s wizened face softened. “Of course, my dear prince. Tell us anything that’s on your mind.”

I didn’t know where to begin. “What do you think…what do you think about bullies?”

“What do you mean, love?” said Ama Kou kindly.

I frowned. “What do you do when you run into people who are bigger and stronger than you, people who hurt you or the people you care about, just because they can and you can’t do anything about it?”

Tak looked grieved. “Is this about those older girls? Are they giving you trouble again? I swear, I’ll take this up with Dirandi, she’s spoiled that daughter of hers completely, and someone needs to tan her hide—”

“I know you why don’t want to do anything about it,” I muttered. “It’s because her mother commands the third legion, and you don’t want to lose her support in the raids.”

Ama Tak looked taken aback. “Well noticed,” she said finally. “A born politician, you are. But that doesn’t mean we can’t do anything for you. Even Dirandi has to respect the sovereignty of the king. If we ask that her daughter stays away from you, she will obey, however grudgingly.”

“Anyway, it’s more than that,” I continued. “It’s just that—everyone says that you’re not supposed to hurt people, even if they hurt you. That’s what’s in the laws and the Code, right? But that doesn’t seem fair, to let them continue whatever they’re doing. What if, sometimes, maybe you should hurt them, so they’ll know what they did was wrong? And so that they’ll know that they can’t hurt you anymore?”

Ama Koume and Ama Kotake looked at each other for a moment. Kotake let out a long, slow sigh.

“I wouldn’t say we take everything that’s in the Code so concretely as others do,” said Ama Kou coolly. “You’re quite right, my love, sometimes it doesn’t work out. The division between peace and war, for instance—who decides which is which? Usually whoever’s winning. And then they tell you that they were only doing what they had to, and if you fought back, that was wrong, and you should be ashamed. If anyone tried to use the Code to tell me that today, I’d spit in their faces.”

“So you’re right to think outside the box, as you should as a leader,” said Ama Tak gravely. Her face seemed suddenly much, much older. “I don’t know how much we’ve rambled on to you about ancient history?”

I shook my head. I knew that Ama Kou and Tak’s families had died when they were young, which was a long, long time ago. But I didn’t know much else.

“Oh, yes,” said Ama Kou, setting her scrolls down on a desk. “If you’ll bear with us a moment…we have quite a few things we could say about bullies. Dangerous people with far too much power. Will you sit with us for a time, Gan?”

I nodded, and sat down on the rug. Ama Tak took the vial from my hand and sloshed it around absentmindedly, as if searching for where to begin. “You’ve heard some of our people call these deserts our home, the motherland?”

I nodded.

“Well, it’s wrong. It’s a lie, a mistake made by ignorant children.”

“I’d call it a case of a faulty memory,” Ama Kou added. “People forgetting where they came from, that’s what it is.”

“Listen well, Ganondorf of the Fire Clan,” Ama Tak continued. “For as our king, you must know this above all else: the Golden People did not come from the desert. We did not always live in the Valley and its Fortress. The Fortress was built in our time; we saw its first outline cut from the rock many years ago.

“No, before that, our people lived in a gentler land, a kinder land. We were people of the steppe, far to the east of here, past the mountains that seal off this waste. Our horses grazed from pastures and drank from cool streams. For us, the deserts were a distant source of wealth alone, where we mined for whatever treasures we could not find in our mountains or find gleaming golden in our streams. It was a good life, and the Golden People were very happy.”

“We were there, Gan,” said Ama Kou softly, her eyes shining. “Tak and I were children in that land, so long ago. We thought nothing of our good fortune; we lived as if we were in paradise, instead of hiding like rats in this sandy hole. I still remember the green fields—and the birds, oh, divine ones, the birds—I still remember rain, and water, cool and still, that you could swim and play in—it all seems like a misty dream, now, though I do what I can to remember—“

“What happened?” I asked, swallowing hard. I couldn’t believe there had been another world for us, and nobody talked about it, nobody had told me this world of blazing death wasn’t our home.

Ama Tak’s face grew dark and stiff as iron. “There was a king. A snub-nosed king from a land we had never heard of, far to the southeast. A place called Hirul.”

“Oh, he was a piece of work,” Ama Kou muttered. “He was jealous of us, of course, as many have been of the wealth of the Golden People. He saw our green fields and our beautiful horses darting across the steppe, and he licked his lips, and he decided to take us for his own. He’d always claimed to be the descendant of some great goddess—that was justification enough in the eyes of his people that all of heaven and earth should be under his control.”

“We woke one morning,” Kotake said bitterly, “and everything around us was slaughter. There were men we’d never seen before, with ugly, squashed faces, rampaging through our village. They’d set fire to the tents and were killing people left and right with their thick swords. We were seven. I remember thinking that the world was coming to an end.”

“I stumbled out of the tent,” Koume said quietly, “and couldn’t see for the smoke. I ran through the chaos, looking for our mother and her beloved. I found her body lying against the stone well, and a soldier standing over her, wiping his blade. I ran away before he could see me.”

“I went looking for our older sister, Kagshe,” Kotake said, her voice breaking, “and found her backed against a wall, three men with swords trying to tear off her skirts. She cut them all down, and then collapsed. Then I saw the blood dripping from her chest. I tried to call out for help, but there was no one. She shook her head, and pulled me close to her. I held her hand as she died.”

“Don’t misunderstand, Gan,” Ama Kou said. “We tried to fight back, of course we did. All our women fought bravely. But they had caught us completely unprepared. We fled to another village, and stayed with the people there for a time. But the armies of Hirul were determined to control our lands. They pursued us, burning their way into the heart of our nation. By the time the war was over, Tak and I had shed our first blood as women, and the steppes were no longer our home.”

“I remember his herald, all decorated in violet, giving us the news,” Ama Tak murmured. “He told us, in his thin, reedy accent, that the King would build new towns for his soldiers across the steppe. That our new home was past the mountains, far away from his glorious eye. We were to eke out whatever living we could in the desert. And wasn’t it wonderful that His Majesty had arranged a peaceful solution, that we could have a place of our own to live?”

“We grew older,” Ama Kou said. “We threw ourselves into learning, into making the best we could of the wastes for our people. But we kept ourselves alive, so that there would always be those who could bear witness to what had been done. And we never forgot.”

I looked down at the patterns in the rug. “I didn’t know,” I whispered. “I can’t believe it. I’m so, so sorry...”

Koume gave me a kind, lopsided smile. “How were you to know? It’s not what the youngest of the People would like to remember. You were not there, dear child. That is why we are here, to teach you.”

“It is time you knew, anyway,” pronounced Kotake. “You are old enough now to understand. And as our king, you must bear the weight of our history upon you, and honor the dead.”

“It’s just…” I said weakly. “I always thought we were supposed to be friends with the nation of Hirul. I thought their king was our ally.”

“What they call themselves in their treaties and how they actually behave are two very different things,” Ama Tak told me. “Over the years, they’ve snatched up more and more control over our affairs, and crushed flickers of resistance. They consider themselves entitled to a share of our gold—their crowns are probably made from the stuff—and woe betide any of us who try to visit our old homelands without their permission. They have us at the point of a sword, and they know it. It’s a different king now, of course, one of his many sons and grandsons, but the blade’s the same as ever.”

“Some king named Daphnes,” muttered Ama Kou, “with one of those daughters named Zelda. I never could understand why they all had to be named Zelda.”

I  stared down at the grown, frowning. “I just…why would they do that to us? We weren’t hurting them at all. How could they do something like that?”

“Because they could,” said Koume seriously. “They were stronger than us, and they could get away with it. They were the lion, and we were the mare who gets taken in the night. That’s the cruelty of the world. Have enough power, and you write its rules. Have too little, and be devoured.”

“Then we should find a way to become stronger,” I insisted. “We have to repay them for what they did, somehow—I don’t know how, but we have to find a way to fight back.”

Koume grinned from behind her flask, the class magnifying her grin full of crooked teeth. “Little foal—what makes you think we aren’t already planning on it?”

“You are?” I whispered, breathless. “You have some kind of plan?” I should have known, of course, of course my Amas were working on some scheme. If anyone could change the fate of the Gerudo nation, it was them.

“We do,” said Ama Tak, rolling up her scroll. “Oh, Gan, our hearts cried out for justice as quickly as yours did. From the moment we left our burning camp, we dreamed of revenge. As Kou and I grew up, we  turned to the study of magic, thirsty for secret knowledge by which we might crush the hated enemy. In this effort we placed all our hopes.”

“But we grew old, and the work was still not done,” Ama Kou lamented. “We were feeble old women, and the Gerudo people were still so weak. The king’s raids had left the Golden People so shriveled, so broken, like a three-legged mare. We struggled against the harsh winds of the desert, and we lived in mourning. Our bodies and our spirits were broken, our numbers were still so few, and there was still so much Tak and I wanted to know.”

“So we found ways to extend our lives,” Tak continued, pulling another scroll off the shelf. She thrust it open and smiled, as if reliving a fond memory. “We chose to remain alive as the memory of the Gerudo people. From our place beside the throne, we advised three great Gerudo kings, making clever arrangements to guide our nation as we saw fit. We watched it grow from a dying ember to a roaring flame.”

“Look around you, Gan,” Koume said with pride. “The Gerudo are greater now than they ever were before. Our lives are hard, cruel, but we thrive. The King of Hirul thought the desert would destroy us. He was wrong. Instead, the heat has tempered our blade. Our tribes and clans are many, our warriors handsome and strong, our armies vast and unconquerable. We have treasure the world envies, and the greatest numbers we have possessed since the Exile. We have incantations and devices not even the King’s court wizards can match.”

“And,” added Ama Tak, placing a wizened hand on my shoulder, “we have you.”

“Me?” I asked, heart surging with excitement. The word resounded in the air.

Kou shot Ama Tak a look. “Now, Kotake, let’s not puff up the boy’s head before he’s ready to think about these things. He’s still young, after all.”

“Ah, let him hear it!” Tak declared. “He knows a great deal already. And he needs to understand his place in the grand design.”

“Oh, very well,” sighed Koume. She sat down atop the table. “We do have very high hopes for you, Gan. Do you remember the story of how your mother came to us?”

I shrugged. This was less interesting; I’d never felt any connection to my mother. She’d died before I was old enough to remember her, and I knew nothing of the ways of her clan. They’d never even approached me. Ama Kou and Ama Tak meant more to me than any half-remembered bloodline did. “Yes,” I managed finally.

Kotake was nodding. “Giaska! What an incredible woman. From such a humble clan, yet so fearsome in battle—so fierce that she fought even when she was with child. We cheered her, oh how we did. But then came the day she fell, lung pierced by a foreigner’s arrow. They brought her to us, for she had one dying request: that her daughter—or so she thought, pardon her for that, Gan—be allowed to live. She beseeched us for a way for another to bear her child.”

Koume grinned. “And we, being skilled in magic and always interested in experiments, took the burden upon ourselves.”

It was a strange story. I still didn’t understand exactly how it had happened—had Koume and Kotake been one person, at some point, in order to bear one child? They were close enough that I could imagine it. I knew the two of them were proud of their achievement, proud of me—but I wished it could have happened differently. I wished Giaska hadn’t left her mate behind in a bed at an inn in Hirul, like so many other young Gerudo who wanted to pass on their line. I wished she’d taken him West on her return. Sure, he would have been an Easterner, and they would have made fun of him, and he wouldn’t have known anything about the business of being king. But he could have taught me something. He could have been there. She’d taken him from me, and however much they praised her, that was selfish.

But my Amas preferred I didn’t speak ill of the dead.

Koume closed her eyes. “It was a birth like no other—and then, Gan, when we discovered your sex, we knew it was a glorious sign. We knew that the gods were smiling upon us. A child of our own womb, and a king, no less—so recently after old Shanundorf’s passing! And just as the Golden People grew so great and so strong! We knew, then, that we would soon have a king of unprecedented strength, bravery, and wisdom, who would see us through this critical time.”

“Asheensa said that a king doesn’t matter, though,” I mumbled, uncertain. “That a male’s just a useless bit of flesh.”

“Don’t you listen to anything that ignorant girl says,” snarled Kotake. “She’s been watching some of those Easterner boyfriends strut around as if they owned the desert. Fools.” She pursed her lips. “You see, Gan, Easterners misunderstand what a male is. They can’t help it, they’ve so many of them they’re as common as flies, and so they never stop to think why they’re there. They think a male alone can fight wars, run a family, that he makes the world bow to his will. And in turn, our Gerudo girls wonder why we need anything like that, accusing us of kneeling to Easterner ways.”

“But both of them are wrong,” she said, with a thrill in her voice. “A male is a spark of lighting, a burst of uncontrolled energy and power. A little bit of chaos. And a tribe, a nation, needs that drive, that energy. It needs a strange creature who dreams a bit more feverishly than his sisters, a Gerudo who awakens something in their hearts and leads them on a bold new campaign. Someone like that becomes a point of energy around whom a people can build their world. The world will reform around you like a blazing arrow in the night—and for once, it will be the Gerudo people who let that arrow fly.”

Koume took a place beside her sister. “Ganondorf, do you wish to see our tormentors brought low? Do you wish to avenge your foremothers, all your suffering sisters, and the dignity of your ancestors?” 

“Yes,” I said, with a thrill. Something hot and dark and hungry leapt within me, and I reeled. “Yes, Ama, I do!”

“Then you shall have that chance,” crowed Ama Tak. “When you are grown, Gan—as soon as you are ready—you will lead us in battle. At your command, we will make war on Hirul’s king, and take back the lands that are ours. And with the glorious signs surrounding your birth, there can be no doubt that we will succeed.””

Ama Kou’s face was suddenly grave. “You understand, Gan, that you must keep this a secret? You understand how important it is that no one else know?”

I tried to answer, but something was filling me, cutting me off from speech. Instead, I just nodded fervently.

The two sisters grinned, showing long, white, jagged teeth. “Oh, how blessed we are to have a king like you, Gan,” Koume whispered. “Truly you are holy, my child.”

“We shall begin teaching you at once,” declared Kotake, her bloodshot eyes wide and wild. “We will teach you sorcery, swordplay, strategy—how to command legions. We will teach you everything you must know to achieve your destiny. And then—and then—!”

“The Hirul king will fall!” cried Koume, exultant. “And together, the three of us will make him and all his wretched people suffer as we once did!”

And at this, something broke loose within me, a torrent of energy finally unleashed, and a voice spoke to me, the same voice I had heard before, and it sang out in righteous anger just as they did:

**He shall suffer, and he shall bleed! They all shall suffer, all the wretched people of Hirul, their lands and wealth torn apart— but the king most of all: his sons and daughters shall be sold into slavery, and his crown shall be broken on his palace steps, rolling in a river of blood—achieve it, young son of the Gerudo! Claim your revenge, O future King!**

I was staggering, dizzy—those weren’t my own words, they came into me from somewhere else, but at the same time, I didn’t disagree with them, they were exactly what I wanted to say, and exactly what I wanted to hear, that I could change this broken world, that I had a powerful and amazing destiny—and for a moment this strange other voice blurred with my Amas’ and my own. I stood up slowly, feeling as if I was going to faint.

 **Burn,** the voice whispered. **Let every last one of them burn.**

Ama Kou noticed my flushed face. “Is everything all right, Gan?” she asked.

“I’m sorry, Ama,” I wheezed, barely able to think clearly. “Could I have a moment to lie down?”

“Of course,” Tak replied, with knitted brow. “Has the heat been getting to you?” I nodded, not really knowing how to explain.

She smiled gently. “Din knows we’ve asked you to take quite a number of things all at once, poor child. Why don’t you take some time to think them over? There’s plenty of time, love. We can begin the teaching whenever you’re ready.”

I nodded, and began to stumble out the door. “Thanks, Amas, for the talk,” I managed. They nodded.

“Gan?” Kou said suddenly as I turned away. I stopped and tried to hold myself together.

“How exactly did you deal with those bullies today, out in the wastes?” she asked.

“I—I don’t know,” I whispered. “I used some kind of magic. Something dark and powerful.”

Their faces burst into wide, snaggled grins. “You’ve got a natural talent,” said Ama Tak, beaming. “We’ll have you a trained sorcerer in no time.”

“Ama Tak,” I said slowly. “I made them suffer.”

She nodded slowly. “Good lad. You _won_ , my boy. Remember that.”

“Now go rest up in your room,” said Ama Kou. “Rest off the heat. We’ll see you soon.”

But I didn’t go to my room. I stumbled through the stone corridors, dragging myself against the wall, barely in control of my own feet. The pounding in my head was incredible, and the voice was still singing, louder than ever:

**Burn, burn, burn! Glory to the one who brings the end! Glory to the one who lights the flame!**

Finally, I made it downstairs without running into anyone, all the way down to the wine cellar. One of the special places where the wines were allowed to age. No one ever came in here, most of the time. That suited me just fine. I wanted someplace dark, and cool, and private.

No one had ever bothered to put in a floor here. There was just sand that had seeped in over the years, all across the ground. A few shafts of dim, bluish light came through the door.

I sat down, breathing heavily. I closed my eyes and thought very hard, shouting back at the voice in my head: _Who are you? What do you want from me!?_

The only response was laughter, dark and deep.

 _No, I mean it,_ I thought furiously. _You think I should do as my Amas say and take revenge on the wicked king. But I can’t do it if you’re shouting at me, making me lose my bearings. I have to know who you are, and I have to know what you want. Tell me._

There was silence in my skull for a second, and then the voice came through very clear. **You and I want exactly the same thing, Ganondorf Dragmire,** it said. **Has that not become obvious?** It seemed amused.

 _I guess,_ I thought back. _We both want revenge, I think. Maybe in that way we’re the same. But you’re not…you’re not_ me _, are you? You come from somewhere else. Somehow you got inside me. You’re some sort of spirit…or maybe even a demon._

 **Perceptive,** the voice purred. **You have a keen mind, befitting a future king. It will serve you well. Indeed, I am more than an echo inside a feeble mortal frame. Much more. But I assure you, I am not so paltry a creature as to be confused with a simple spirit or demon.**

 _Then what are you?_ I demanded. _Tell me! Why did you come to me?_

Suddenly the voice was terrifying, deafening as a hurricane. **I WILL ANSWER, GANONDORF DRAGMIRE. I WILL SHOW YOU WHO I AM! BUT DO YOU TRULY WISH TO KNOW ME!?  DO YOU DARE RISK LEARNING ALL THAT I AM?**

I almost fell over with the sheer force of it. But I clenched my teeth. _Yes. Show me._

The voice was smooth and cool again. **Look to your left, then. Take the stylus you see there in hand and set it to the tablet that lies all around you.**

I opened my eyes. Beside me lay an old, crooked stick, lying in the sand. _You want me to…write with this stick? On the ground?_ I stared down at the cool, hard sand. _I thought you said you would tell me who you were first—?_

 **I am SHOWING you, foolish child!** the voice roared. **Must I make everything so painfully evident? Stop berating me and listen for a moment. What you inscribe will make everything clear.**

I set the stick in the ground. _Fine. I’m ready._ Excitement was bubbling within me. I was so close to an answer

 **Make the sign of the Three Goddesses,** the voice pronounced. **You know the symbol, boy. Show me.**

I did know it, of course I did—it was everywhere in the world, on our tapestries, on our blades, even on the shields of our enemies. I seized the stick and started digging. Usually when I tried to draw the symbol of the gods, whether by pen or otherwise, my hands messed it up, and the shapes came out askew, lines lopsided. It wasn’t an easy thing to draw. But this time, my hands were steady. I could feel the presence alongside me, guiding me as I drew.

 **Yes, make the first corner,** whispered the voice. **Feel each line, yes, each angle. Make the emblem of Naryu, queen of the sky, who delivers her cold, sharp verdicts with the force of a tempest. The beginning.**

The symbol lay before me, a perfect triangle:

 

**Very good. Now, bring forth the second sister. Make the symbol of Farore, creator of green lands, of the vital spirit which men call life. The goddess of lust, of all hidden foulness, of infestations that scream protest against eradication.**

My arms felt the strokes come easily, powerfully. I no longer felt like my head was about to split open; instead I felt focused, a channel that something was flowing through, like dark water. There were two triangles now: symbols, I knew, of the golden energy these goddesses had poured into the world:

**Yes, and now,** oozed the rich voice, giddy with pleasure, **comes Din, O wonderful Din! Sweet goddess of stone and fury and flame. Beautiful in her anger, glorious in the devastation she rains down on all things, smashing apart even the most tenacious of beings. The greatest of the three—if, perhaps, overly loyal to her sisters. Let her sign complete the triumvirate.**

And there it was, the sign I’d known and seen since I was little, the symbol of the creators of the universe—three triangles forged into the shape of one:

 

People called it many names, but it was known everywhere, and I’d heard stories about it and our golden Goddesses from my Amas since I was little. Some said that it was the shape of a real object, hidden somewhere in the world, and to the one who encountered it, it would grant fantastic powers over the Goddesses’ creation. Men in other lands probably called it something else, but we called it the Trinity. I stared down at it, enraptured.

The voice broke through my thoughts. **You are not finished,** it whispered. **The symbol of the goddesses was only the beginning.  Cast it aside, and leave only the truth your etching has revealed. Erase everything unneeded; erase all the dross.**

_I don’t understand—_

**Look closer, boy. How many shapes do you see?**

I started to give the obvious answer: the three triangles, and then the One of which they were all a part—

 And then, without warning, I saw it. I saw it. I stopped, and let my stick fall to the ground. I spread out my hands and began to erase. I started at the corners, smudging them away, smoothing out the sand, moving closer and closer inward. Finally, only the center was left. Before me lay a new shape, one I hadn’t drawn, now fully revealed:

 

 **Yes! There! Look upon my emblem, boy, and see me for what I am,** the voice sang.I felt my hands moving of their own accord, etching the triangle in sand again and again and again, making it darker and thicker and clearer. **There are those who would tell you that in the beginning there were the gods, and they made the world**. **That story fits only a child’s understanding. I will tell you the truth: In the beginning there was the Void, and the Void was with the gods, and the Void was a god.**

_I don’t understand—_

**I am that which was there, in the Void, before the start of all things. Did you really think that the three goddesses could burst into being from nothing without the Nothing itself awakening in its turn? Before all light, there was darkness. And when the light began to move and think and create beings of its own, I, the darkness, took on thought and form as well. I am the fourth sister. Or the father, or the mother. I am that which was there before the goddesses. I am the space their bodies make, moving in starlight. I am that which is there all around them when they create. I am that which will be there long after they depart.**

**Call me any name you like, boy, and the same will remain true. I have many. So, too, do the faces I wear shift like the shadows on the moon. The mark before you is perhaps the closest one can get to the whole truth. I am the opposite of the Trinity you know, and yet it is their being that sustains and shapes mine. I am the opposite of Creation.**

**I am the power to Destroy.**

**And I will be spurned no longer.**

My head was spinning. “There are old tales,” I whispered, “of a Demon King who sought to raze the lands before him. A creature called World’s End, or Demise."

The voice sounded pleased. **Yes, indeed, those were some of my names! Also the Worm, Devourer, and Longest-Night. Ever in the memory of your people I live on. And I tell you I shall live again.**

 _How—_ I swallowed, trying to figure out what to say. _How did something like you end up inside of me?_

**It was no difficult trick. It was your grandmothers, dear boy, your best and beloved, who made it possible. With cunning spells they took your spirit from your mother’s womb, and quickened it in their own, and in that time while you were bodiless, floating free, there was space enough for me to slip in beside you. I needed some way to take flesh again, and your family provided me with a most marvelous opportunity. I trust I have been a most unobtrusive houseguest?**

_Why did you need a body?_ I asked. _I thought you were a kind of god. You can’t act on your own?_

 **No,** said the voice, and it sounded as if it were gnashing its teeth. **Once, I could. You already know there was a war. A long and delightful war, but I happened, sadly, to be on its losing side, and I lost the body I had so carefully crafted. Now I must rely on a vessel to house my spirit.**

 _You said—_ I was nervous about approaching the topic, but it seemed like I might need to. _You said you had been spurned?_

 **Indeed** , said the voice thoughtfully. I could almost feel it turning its gaze to the past. **That, truly, is where the trouble started. My golden sisters, you see, were not so fair of heart as has been imagined. They cast me out, the foul wretches! Oh, it stung, it stung. With fury and with great contempt, they sent me away from their golden world, and told me to lose myself again in the darkness. They had no interest in the beautiful endings I hoped to create. They didn’t like the idea that everything in their beautiful creation would one day wither and die. My greatest gift, and they threw it back at me as if it were nothing! They cursed, insulted me, and sent me away.**

**Only Din, beautiful, strong-armed Din, had any sympathy for my plight. But in the end, she was unable to persuade her sisters that I should be allowed to stay. So I slipped away into the darkness in great sorrow and set about making creatures of my own.**

“Din,” I whispered. “The protector of my people.”

**Yours and mine, dear child. Much later, I returned, to show them what I had made, and still they rejected my work. So I made myself part of their work, took flesh and form, and set out with an army of my children to conquer their creation. Can I be begrudged that much? Wanting to be part of that experience? Wanting to show them I could not be so easily forgotten?**

**But they set in place a defender. A wretched, devious little spirit of the landscape called Hilea. Through many machinations, she set herself as a barricade against me, found herself a warrior and a sword and cut me in two. It was not long before she had slaughtered all but a few of my children. Even now, she waits for me at the borders of the world. Binding herself into human flesh, she became a woman who founded a kingdom, and even now the children of that awful bloodline all bear her spirit within them. The thrice-accursed people of Hirul.**

The name hit me like a slap in the face. “Hirul!” I whispered.

**The very same. Why do you think the people of Hirul act so sanctimonious before gods and men? They have all of Hilea’s arrogance, all her prudish self-righteousness. They think themselves divine by the accident of a bloodline. And so they believe they can do whatever they like here on earth.**

“They do,” I whispered. “Oh, how they do. So you know what it was like, then. You remember what happened to our people. How we were exiled.”

**My dear boy, I witnessed every moment of it. I was there, in every drop of blood, in every sword’s fall.**

“Then you understand.”

**Your people, the blessed people of Din, were chased out of their homeland, made to diminish. Yes, it was a lamentable loss.**

“And you know what that’s like, too,” I murmured. “You were exiled yourself.”

**I was. I was cursed and cast aside by those who thought they deserved a universe to themselves, and had the power to claim it, just as the armies of the south stole from your people what should have been their kingdom. Is it not marvelous how alike we are, dear child? Are we not well-suited for each other?**

“Maybe,” I said shakily. “Demise”—and I was still having trouble believing I was talking to an ancient god—“What exactly do you want? What are you planning to do?”

**It is simple. I lost one war. I will not lose another. I will wage war until I have what is rightfully mine. Until I am recognized. Until I have a place beside of the Creators of the universe, and our family is reunited. I have that right, don’t you think? And then, dear child, I hope to have an opportunity to join in the great work, to reshape creation anew with my sisters, or make a world anew in which Creation and Destruction are intertwined. Then, and only then, will I be satisfied.**

“That’s the affairs of the gods,” I told the voice. “What do you need a lowly mortal like me for?”

**To be my agent on earth. To be my body and my form, as the first Zelda was Hilea’s. And you are hardly insignificant. As the king of the Gerudo, you are in the perfect position to begin one of the greatest wars this world has ever seen. Together we will be author such great new works of destruction, blazing and black, that the gods will be unable to turn their eyes away.**

**And that war shall be yours, too, my boy. Just as your grandmothers said, you shall have your revenge on the kings of Hirul, and together we shall seize his crown. Your people will have their lands again, and more besides. I lay my powers at your service, and swear I shall turn my attention to your freedom, every bit as much as my own.**

I thought about it, ideas flying around in my mind while the voice hummed somewhere behind it all. The sharp triangle was still dark and vivid against the sand. I felt very unsure still, as if I was perched on the edge of a cliff, staring into something very dark and very deep. Wondering if I should dive. “I don’t really have a choice, do I?” I said slowly. “You’re already inside me.”

 **Why, of course you have a choice!** the god-voice said amiably. **Your body was but one of my many options, and I will not stay in it if you reject my offer. I will find another, more suitable host, and begin again from there. You need not trouble yourself with gods and demons should I not serve your needs. If you tell me to be gone, and set about waging Gerudo rebellion on your own, I will not interfere in the least, and you will never hear from me again. You have my promise on that.**

I breathed a sigh of relief. “Then maybe I will tell you to go.”

 **I think it only fair to warn you, however,** said the voice carefully, **that it may not be in your best interest to have me depart.**

“What do you mean?”

**I mean your rebellion will very likely fail. My condolences.**

“No!” I roared. “You can’t know that! How could you possibly know that!?” I suddenly realized I was shouting to myself in an empty room. I quickly closed my eyes and concentrated again. _You can’t know that!_

**I am sorry, but without my intervention, I guarantee it will fail. It will be a glorious and noble effort, one that will be remembered in the songs of the poets for generations to come, but in the end, it will fail, and your people will be subjected to a greater slavery than before.**

_That can’t be! My Amas have been planning this for hundreds of years—_

**Your grandmothers are clever women. However, both you and they have failed to grasp the full reality of the political situation. It will simply not be possible for you to overcome the strength of Hirul. It is a vast and mighty kingdom, and yours is but a small province. Even with all the forces you now command, your efforts will not be enough.**

I bit my lip. _Then what can we do?_

 **What you need,** said the voice smoothly, **is a rebalancing of power. A secret advantage that will give you the kind of strength Hirul does not possess. In this world, there are those with the claws and bulk of predators, and those with the fear and weakness of prey. To conquer any nation, you must perform the trick of turning yourself from prey to predator. To do so, you need something that will shift the scales of power. A weapon.**

“You,” I whispered.

**Precisely.**

I took a deep breath. “All right, then,” I said slowly. “Tell me, Demise: what exactly can you offer me?”

There was the impression of a grin. **I will put all the destructive powers of the universe in your hands. If we work together, you will have access to dark, ancient magic beyond even your elders’ wildest dreams. All the forces of the underworld will be at your disposal, and every goblin, necromancer, and demon will bow down to you as their master. You will have the strength to mow down any force the Hileans could set before you.**

**And that is only the beginning. You have heard tales of the Trinity, of the three golden gifts of the goddesses? I tell you truly, boy, they are alive and at work in this world. And we will take them for our own. I shall give you the gift of Power itself, with Din’s blessing. Or perhaps we shall trick her out of it—she does so admire and respect a good theft. Then the others, until our omnipotence is complete. You shall be like a god on earth, the people of Hilea shall lie in ruin, and the Gerudo shall be exalted above all other people—a Golden Kingdom, controlling the Golden Light. And Light and Darkness shall be as one until the end of time.**

“That’s a really big offer,” I said. “What do I have to do in return?”

**All you have to do is open yourself to me. Let your soul and mine join together; let our intentions become one. Let us fulfill the destiny we were always meant for and become one creature, blazing with force, ruling all the world. All you have to do is say yes.**

**What will it be, son of the Fire Clan? Will you accept my offer? Will it be a slow death, a culture fading, forgotten in the desert? Or will it be a glorious new awakening, victory that punishes the wicked and exalts the brave?**

I was quiet a long time. I looked down at the dark triangle on the ground and all it meant. I thought about my life here and the kind of king I wanted to be for my people. I thought about all the women, friends and companions, I knew and loved. I thought about how horrible and awful some of us had become, trapped here in the desert, and how I hated them. I thought about Ama Kou and Ama Tak’s sister, dying against the wall. I thought of all the fear that ran through our people’s voices as they spoke of the mines and the outside world. I thought of the cruel wind I had always hated, that I’d never before imagined I could escape. I thought of the king of Hirul, dancing on our broken shoulders, laughing in his golden crown, and I thought of how much he deserved to be punished. And I remembered how good it felt to make people who deserved it suffer.

“Yes,” I said aloud. “I accept your offer. Take my body and my soul. Give me the power to set us free, and let me join all of me with you. Let us become one, and let us fight, and let us win. Demise, I accept, and I am yours.”

The world spun around me, and everything went black, and felt a great rushing within me, as if some empty vessel was finally being filled, and I saw the world against the blackness of space, and I felt the darkness blaze up against the cruel light of the stars—and it was so much, so much bigger than me, than anything I had ever known or felt, and it overwhelmed me and surrounded me and filled my mind to overflowing—

**And when I opened my eyes anew, I knew that nothing and no one in the entire world would ever stop me again.**


End file.
